


open books on the grass

by robelernst



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Gen, i love ernst a lot ok, what if fic that i promised sydney a while ago oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 14:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4226148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robelernst/pseuds/robelernst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another year has passed by, fitting into the quick succession of life passing right before his eyes. Another year has passed by, and Ernst thought he was doing alright. He had assumed the numerous after-school sessions with Hänschen and the sleepless nights spent studying had been enough. But, it turned out not to be.</p>
<p>And for some odd reason, he’s content with that.</p>
<p>... or an AU in which Ernst fails instead of Moritz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	open books on the grass

**Author's Note:**

  * For [courfeyrock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/courfeyrock/gifts).



> dedicated to the oh-so lovely [sydney](http://mohritz.tumblr.com/) !
> 
> disclaimer: some of the text used in this work is quoted directly from spring awakening. i don't own these lines, nor do i own the characters or concept of spring awakening.

Failed.  


Another year has passed by, fitting into the quick succession of life passing right before his eyes. Another year has passed by, and Ernst thought he was doing alright. He had assumed the numerous after-school sessions with Hänschen and the sleepless nights spent studying had been enough. But, it turned out not to be.

And for some odd reason, he’s content with that.

Currently, he’s sitting in a clearing in the middle of some woods - some familiar woods that remind him of simpler times - and he thinks about it. And, when he thinks about it, he’s happy for his peers - he’d much rather it be him than them. He is especially glad for Moritz Stiefel, someone that had once been a very important person in his life. And he still is, or at least, Ernst would like him to be.

' _He has little to no focus at all, and the teachers all dislike him profoundly. He's an obvious contender for inevitable failure, Ernst_ ,' Hänschen had told Ernst just before the final examinations, ' _It'd be a pity, really, to see you go instead of him._ '

He’s thought about Moritz a lot in the passing years - he has missed him dearly - but now, he tries to remember enough about him to imagine what it would be like if Moritz had been the one to fail.

He remembers bits and pieces of conversations shared when they were children. He remembers Moritz talk about his father, of how much he really frightened him. The memories of his old friend's shaken voice and his eyelids squeezed shut sends a shiver through Ernst, and he prays that Moritz no longer has to fear his father. And if he does, he certainly is glad that he is the one to have failed.

And then he thinks of Hänschen Rilow, who must be so disappointed in him. Or maybe not. Hänschen has always been confusing to Ernst, from the way he smiles at him to the lingering touches, everything that might suggest he had wanted to be more than just a voluntary tutor to the younger boy.

_Had_. Ernst wonders if Hänschen ever really cared about him at all, since he does seem to care so little about other people. He wonders if it was all a game to him. (If it was, it's definitely only wishful thinking to hope that he doesn't move on to another game piece so soon after Ernst has been discarded.)

His thoughts are disrupted, thankfully, by a rustling in the bushes. He stands quickly, anxious to find out who or what could be lurking there - he momentarily hopes that it's one Moritz Stiefel or possibly a Hänschen Rilow.

It's neither. Instead, a battered and weary-looking Ilse Neumann emerges.

"Ernst Röbel?"

"Ilse? Y-you frightened me."

"How are you?" She asks and he looks up to find that she hasn't changed much after all this time. Despite looking like she's been quite literally dragged through the entire forest, her eyes are still just as warm and playful and delighted as he remembers them. It's impossible not to let himself ease into a smile only minutes after encountering her.

He shrugs, gesturing for her to sit down next to him, which she does, cross-legged. "I'm... a-alright, I suppose. What about you, w-where have you been, um, k-keeping yourself?"

Her face lights up at the question, but there's something in her eyes that leaves Ernst worried. He'd hate for something to have happened that could have somehow put out the fire and spirit that is Ilse Neumann.

" _Priapia_ , you know, the Artists' Colony?" Ernst nods. She smiles whimsically, dreamily, but there's still a darkness to her that is becoming almost scary to the him. "All those old buggers, Ernst. All so wild. So... _Bohemian_. All they want to do is dress me up and paint me!" She laughs and he smiles along with her.

"That Johan Fehrendorf. He's a wicked one, actually. Always knocking down easels and chasing me." She stands, pretending to chase someone that's not there, jolting her arm out every now and then as if she were fighting with a sword. "Dabbing me with his paintbrush. But then, that's men if they can't stick you with one thing - they'll try another."

"Oh god, Ernst, the other day we all got _so_ drunk!" She turns to said boy, smile blinding and eyes wild, now. "I passed out in the snow - just lay there, unconscious, all night. Then I spent an entire week with Gustav Baum. Truly. Inhaling that ether of his... Until this morning, when he woke me with his gun, set against my breast. He said, ' _One twitch, and it's the end_.' Really gave me the goosebumps."

The breath is immediately knocked out of the both of them when she’s finished speaking and only dead silence hangs in the air. _Dead, oh god_. Ernst’s face twists in concern, and he reaches out to take her hand. "Th-that's sounds t-terrifying, Ilse. I'm so sorry. You -"

"But, that's enough about me! What about you, Ernst, still in school?" She smiles, again, but he fails to reciprocate. Instead, he shrinks in the spot that he is seated in. He lets go of her hand.

"Actually, I - well, no. I've n-not been put through. F-for the upper grade, I mean." It's only when he feels a wetness on his cheek, does he realize that he’s started crying. And, before he can process anything, there are arms wrapped around him, as well.

He practically melts into Ilse’s arms. Her warmth is still so familiar and comforting, it feels like home. It feels like finding a lost childhood and an old friend, and walking a familiar path; Ilse _is_ home. Or at least, a part of it - the beginning of finding it, maybe.

And maybe Ernst Röbel failed. And maybe Ilse Neumann is a little lost. And maybe Moritz Stiefel deserves more. And maybe Hänschen Rilow couldn't care less. With time, it will be okay. They're going to be okay.

And, with Ilse Neumann's comforting embrace and the tears coming to a stop, and his whole life ahead of him, Ernst knows that.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! please go follow my [tumblr](http://robelernst.tumblr.com/) if you'd like! kudos and comments are much appreciated. thank you for reading!


End file.
